


For Whom The Bells Toll

by jacobmybeloved



Series: Ghost Recon [3]
Category: Ghost Recon Breakpoint, Ghost Recon Wildlands, Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Accidental Wedding, Angst, Cringe, Doomed to Fail, F/F, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection, but here we are, foolish optimism, i think, lap dance, or are they??, please suspend any knowledge of annulments because i'm just making this up as i go, soul mates, suspended belief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19842538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacobmybeloved/pseuds/jacobmybeloved
Summary: After a night of drinking and celebrations, Socorro Montoya finds herself in a sticky situation that no training could have ever prepared her for.





	For Whom The Bells Toll

**Author's Note:**

> [please refer to this video for a certain part of the reading to help with visualization: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_fZDvxpXEI]
> 
> also note this is a direct sequel to my fic Capitulation [i'm doing these one shots way out of order so please bear with me: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043224]
> 
> also please enjoy!

“Holt get your ass down from there!” 

Weaver’s arms flailed as she tried grabbing some part of the drunken Holt who was dancing merrily on the bar counter. Midas and Socorro watched, simultaneously laughing and shaking their heads as they watched from the table near the jukebox. Tonight marked a very special occasion for the small group of friends and recruits. Just a few days prior, Socorro Esperanza Montoya had been inducted into the Ghost initiative, finally joining the ranks of her fellow comrades whom she was now surrounded by. 

The fact that Major Walker had delayed his evaluation of her, acting as the one barrier that stood between her and the Ghosts was infuriating, though not more infuriating than the fact that she had willingly slept with the Major the same night he cast his vote. She had yet to tell the others of her escapade, partly because she was wholeheartedly embarrassed and ashamed. If word got out, others may think she had slept her way into this position, instead of endlessly, relentlessly training for this honor. She knew she need not worry about what Midas, Weaver, and Holt thought, in fact, she knew Holt would slap her on the back and say good job. But yet she could not find the strength or courage to tell anyone. At least not tonight.

Tonight was for celebration, and for spending time with her newfound sisters before they got shipped off to their first official-off the recorded assignment. As she and Midas took a sip of their drinks, the bell hanging over the main door rang, signaling more patrons entering the establishment. Socorro took a sip of her beer as Holt and Weaver finally joined them. Socorro’s face scrunched up as the bitter taste of the beer touched her tongue while Midas scoffed. At first, she had believed her longtime friend to be scoffing at her sad attempt to drink, but really, she was scoffing at the patrons behind the newest initiate. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” she huffed.

Socorro barely had time to turn her head to see who Midas was speaking about, but the look on Holt’s and Weaver’s faces said it all as two men came to sit with them at their table. Coco recognized them easily: Jeffery K. Griffin and Alejandro J. Sanchez. Socorro could feel her eyes roll into the back of her head. Griffin was an A-Class jackass who thought he was hot shit and a self-described ladies man. His friend Sanchez was okay, a bit on the quiet side and a bit awkward, but he was a sweetheart overall which puzzled her as to why he hung around Griffin. Griffin had his sights set on one woman the moment he entered the bar, much to that woman’s disgust.

Holt was already sloppy drunk before these two guys walked in, her words slurred and toppling one another as they spewed out of her mouth, “What do you want, you cookie-cutter looking fuck?” 

“Whoa whoa whoa, what’s with the hostility? Can’t a man just enjoy the company of some beautiful ladies?” he retorted before setting his eyes on Holt.

He didn’t have to say anything more. Everyone on base knew he had a raging hard-on for their jokester with the short temper, but everyone who was not Griffin knew that Holt only had eyes for one woman, and she was looking pretty irritated by his presence.

“Holt’s not interested in you Griffin so why don’t you bugger off.” Weaver chimed in protectively. 

“What? You two going down on each other or something?” Griffin spoke without missing a beat. 

Socorro wanted to retreat into the epicenter of her body, seeing the instant fire in Holt’s eyes. This was not going to end nicely. 

Midas raised her drink in the air like she was making a toast, “Let us all remember Griffin solely for his idiocracy.”

Holt was clear across the table in moments as she dove after their fellow soldier. Weaver attempted to pull her back but that was the thing about Holt: once she started something, there was little if anything that could make her stand down. Be it fortune or just really bad luck, that _something_ came strolling through the bar’s door like they had been summoned for this exact purpose.

The color in Socorro’s face drained as she watched Cole D. Walker enter the premises. She wanted to duck under the table, dive out the window, perhaps fall into a black hole. She avoided his heated gaze as he charged towards Holt and Griffin exchanging fists.

“Stand down! All of you!” his voice boomed through the bar, bringing everyone, soldier and patrons alike, to a standstill. 

Socorro could feel her soul threatening to leave her body as his eyes glanced briefly over her. They lingered for just a second longer than they did over anyone else but it was so subtle, you could not notice it unless you were specifically looking for it. He looked like he was ready to rip into just about all of them, but instead, decided to focus on Griffin specifically.

“What have I told you, man. One more stunt like that and you are out. You understand me?”

Griffin looked as red as a tomato, ready to explode at any moment. His lips were pursed and his nostrils were flared as he reluctantly nodded his head, “Won’t happen again, sir.”

Walker placed a firm hand on Griffin’s shoulder, like a father finishing scolding his son. He turned to the rest of the soldiers, pacing like a predator, looking for the tiniest ounce of fear to secrete from one of them.

“As for the rest of you-” he spoke coldly, “Why the hell are you not drinking?”

\-----

Three hours later.

Most of the patrons had left the bar by the time the clock hit that sweet spot on the clock. Twenty-four-hundred exactly. Griffin was passed out cold at the initial table where Coco and the others had been sitting. If you looked off to some far off corner, Midas and Sanchez were having a drunken discussion of economics. At the bar, Holt was consoling a, ironically, inconsolable Weaver, discussing the team leader’s pending divorce. Socorro found herself tending to the jukebox. She had drunk way more than she had planned to, and now every slight moment of her head threatened to send her spiraling. A hand came to rest atop of the jukebox, attached to a smug, and very intoxicated Walker. Following his lecture, he and the others proceeded to get absolutely trashed, despite the risks that it entailed, especially for a high ranking officer such as himself. He did not seem too perturbed though. He was definitely a man who cared about the well being of his subordinates but also wanted to make sure that they remembered they were not just soldiers, but humans as well. 

“Having trouble picking a song you like?” he asked before taking a sip from his beer.

His eyes were slightly glazed over, signifying he too had had a bit too much to drink this evening. Socorro was not sure how to respond to the man, correction, superior officer, she had slept with just a few weeks prior. She simply nodded her head as she continued flipping through the catalog. He seemed unphased by her silence, smirking seemingly to himself.

“Bet you’re a great dancer.” he said unexpectedly. 

The statement caught her off guard, causing a stifled, sarcastic laugh to escape her lips “Oh, I’m definitely not.”

“Oh, but I bet you are.” he persisted with a wide and mischievous grin, “C’mon, you’ve been walking around like you have a stick up your ass since day one. Just let loose Montoya.”

She smirked, “Just let loose huh?”

Either he had completely forgotten about their little tryst or he was really good at hiding it. Either one was fine with her, to be honest. What they had was just a one night stand. Anything beyond that was too much for her, despite her own feelings fighting against her. She tried to tell herself that she did not need any complications to make the coming months any more tumultuous, but being this close to him, she could almost taste the subtle flavor of his mouth, the scent of mint green aftershave. His eyes were planted on her, as he slowly sipped his drink, continuing to egg her on with a smile. She rolled her eyes, deciding to give in to his insistence. She waved over to Holt who finally seemed to calm Weaver down. If she was going to do this, she needed a lot more alcohol in her system.

“I need some shots over here!”

Holt’s eyes lit up, an equally mischievous smile marred across her face. Five minutes later, she and the others were three shots in. Coco gripped onto the jukebox as she narrowed down her song selection. _Bingo_ her intoxicated mind thought triumphantly as the music began to fill the room. Midas, Sanchez, and Weaver watched with painful expressions as they watched their cohort begin to shift her hips, following along to the music that began to fill the room. Holt had taken a spot along Walker. Holt herself looked like an eager child, cheering and clapping while Walker remained calm as a cucumber, his body slightly slouched in his chair with his arms crossed and a subtle grin. 

A chorus of male voices filled the room. The song selected was of the oldie but goodie fifties types, something Socorro could respect. Cole D. Walker took up a chair elsewhere from where the others gathered like this was his own private show. With her dignity out of the window already, she began to strut towards him. The following sequence was one for the record books as she twisted and turned, her performance less of an actual dance and more of their two bodies grinding against one another. Griffith, having woken up from his drunk nap, alongside Holt could not wipe the smiles from their faces as they continued to cheer.

For Socorro and Colonel Walker, however, it was as if there was no one else in the room. The song began to draw to a close, the others quickly losing interest in the grind-show. For Socorro and Walker, however, the show was just beginning. Her chest began to feel warm as she leaned into him. His bit his lower lip in anticipation. To his disappointment, she does not kiss him, instead, she lovingly held his face in her hands, her eyes scanning his face as if he were to disappear at any moment. This man infuriated her from the moment she had met him but she was unequivocally drawn to him in a way she had no words to explain. She just knew she wanted to feel the warmth of his hands around her, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“Off the record…” she whispered to him, “You wanna get outta here?”

Without any hesitation, he stood with her in his grasp. This night was just getting started.

\-----

Two days later.

A damp, flicking feeling awoke Socorro Montoya from her deep sleep, causing her to jolt up. She was met by the rapid moving tongue of a furry friend, a blue pitbull with the sweetest looking face. The problem was, dogs weren’t allowed on base, and she sure as hell did not own a dog. She sat up in an attempt to look at her surroundings. The sudden movement sent her head spiraling, threatening to break apart from the throbbing that she felt. Just how wasted had she gotten the other night? The dog took her sudden motion as an invitation to jump onto her lap, continuing to lick her face. Despite the pain that she felt in her head, she could not help but laugh as the dog’s paws dug into her ticklish points.

“Doggie, down. Please get down.” she pleaded with the excited animal.

“Bam-Bam, leave her alone.” a man’s voice suddenly ordered from the doorway.

The dog heeded his master’s demand and jumped down from the bed. Her head may have been in another dimension but there was no denying the identity of the man standing there in nothing but boxers and a glass of water in his hand. Cole D. Walker looked at her with a smug look as he approached the bed upon which she was sitting in. _Fuck my life_ she thought as she looked around once more. She wasn’t on base. She was in Walker’s house. Upon realizing this, she cursed herself. She knew going home with him was a bad idea but she did it anyway. The whole base probably knew about them now. Socorro groaned as she held her head in her hands, all the while Walker sat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Here.” he gestured for her to take the glass of water, “You need to stay hydrated. You pretty much slept for the entirety of the day yesterday.”

With her face still in her hands, she mumbled, “Please tell me this is a bad dream.”

She could hear him chuckle, “If that’s what you want to call it.” he replied, his voice softening.

He nudged her with the glass of water once more until she finally took it into her possession. She chugged the water like it was her only lifeline to get her out of this mess. As she took the last bit of water down her throat, she went to hand back the glass before something on her finger caught her eye. Coco was not the type to wear jewelry. She thought it was impractical; it could get lost, it could get caught on something. She heard enough horror stories from cohorts to know she’d never be caught dead wearing anything. So why was it she was seeing a giant rock on her finger that shined brighter than the sunlight pouring into the room. 

“Yeah,” Walker spoke, drawing out the syllables, “So, we may or may not have gotten married the other night. After the bar.”

“We did what?” Socorro shrieked.

Walker had to spend the next thirty seconds trying to soothe the now lively Coco as she began cursing up a storm at him. Evidently, they did not leave the bar as she had initially remembered. They stuck around drinking some more alongside the others. The consensus was they were all going to be shipped off soon anyway so might as well enjoy the alcohol while it lasted. One thing led to another and somehow, next thing they knew, Midas, who apparently had a license as a marriage officiant, was well, officiating a wedding between the two. Where did the ring come then from then you ask? With Weaver’s impending divorce in the final stages, she drunkenly offered up her ring as a gift. It was so elaborate that anyone could dismiss it as some sort of joke or cruel fabrication, but that was not a trait of Cole Walker. He told you everything straight to your face, whether the truth hurt or not. It was this other trait of his that told her that he was indeed telling the truth. The two sat in silence afterward, giving her a moment to let the sudden revelation set in. She swore she was on some sort of novella right now. A very, horridly written, novella.

“Maybe we could give it a test drive.” He spoke suddenly with a stone-cold expression, making her wonder if he was just that good at keeping a straight face or if he was being wholeheartedly serious.

Before she could object, his mouth began to run once more.

“Let’s give it three to six months. If it doesn’t work out, we just get it annulled. Make it like it never happened.” 

Socorro stared at him with disbelief. He, however, looked at her in a way no man ever had. Cole Walker was the biggest asshole she knew. He was brash, hard-headed, stubborn, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was undeniably attracted to him in every way you could think of. He took the glass from her hand, setting it aside before taking her hands into his own. He brought them up to his lips, kissing each one with an unknown kindness.

“You don’t even know me.” She remarked, pulling her hand away, “How would this even work?”

He seemed prepared for that question, a cocky smile appearing on his face, “People get married and stay together for twenty, Hell even fifty years without ever really knowing each other. For others, it’s just instantaneous. You just know.”

He reached out, brushing her hair away from her face. She turned her face away but he titled it right back towards him. He stared at her with those large brown eyes that were misleading. Puppy dog eyes placed upon a stern face. 

“I know there’s something more between us Montoya.” He continued, “I know you and I both felt something that first night.”

Socorro could not help but smirk out of embarrassment of the whole situation. Perhaps one day she’d look back on this and laugh. Perhaps this would be the greatest mistake of her life. Time could only tell. For now, she’d enjoy this softer side of Cole D. Walker for however long she could. 

“And if we go longer than six months?” she wondered, avoiding responding to his previous declaration. 

His hand rose to her chin, gently clasping her between his fingers, “Then I get to call you Mrs. Walker.” 

As the two leaned into one another, his dog quickly squeezed between them, essentially ceasing the romantic moment. While he looked disgruntled, Socorro could no longer contain her laughter as the eager animal continued his kisses from earlier. She peered over at Cole as she hugged the dog.

“You really named him Bam-Bam?”

It was his time to look embarrassed now. He ran his hand through the poof of hair that rested upon his head before joining in on petting the dog.

“I’m not very creative.” he admitted.

Socorro laughed as she leaned around the dog, inching closer to Walker, “I’m sure we can work on that.”

His eyes widened as she pressed her lips to his in a light peck. The two looked at one another, at first unsure but then were resolved as their hands wrapped around one another, their lips entering an intricate dance. Bam Bam sensed what was about to happen and hightailed it out of there. Socorro had to give it up to Walker, despite his brutish nature, he was very optimistic. Foolishly so. As much as she wanted to believe that this would work out, she had to be realistic: nothing good ever lasted forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to note that all the members of Nomad's team are female in this AU (to reflect my ongoing run through of GR:Wildlands) 🙈 
> 
> LINK TO THEIR FACE CLAIMS HERE: https://cyber-ghost-fallout.tumblr.com/post/185858717922/ghost-team-valkyrie-x-not-just-a-pretty-face


End file.
